


tripping over masquerades

by bestgirlfaust (hhmihailov)



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: First Meetings, Gender-Neutral Apprentice (The Arcana), Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-17
Updated: 2019-12-17
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:42:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21837679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hhmihailov/pseuds/bestgirlfaust
Summary: it's the first night of the masquerade, nine years prior to the start of the game. who is this alluring yet mysterious person asra meets?
Relationships: Apprentice/Asra (The Arcana)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 36





	tripping over masquerades

the masquerade this year would be wildly more fun if muriel attended with him, asra muses to himself, as he does every year, but sadly asra doesn't blame his friend for steering clear of the festivities yet again. fortunately for him, lucio is nowhere to be seen. he hasn't exactly received permission to set up shop here and really doesn't want to spend yet another night cleaning floors in the count's wing or shoveling poorly-trained animal waste. he camped out here all night to snag the spot. it's right behind a well-known magic shop; asra's never been, but he's heard some talk, and what better way to do business than to catch those in need of a magician before they enter the magic shop? it's not stealing business if he gets it first; at least, that's what he tells himself.

bright purple eyes study the crowd from behind his mask as he flips his intricately-carved knives in the air, using his magic to encourage more eye-pleasing tricks and flips. his movements are fluid, like water. a few people eye him with interest, others gathering around to watch. he doesn't particularly enjoy being the center of attention, but he doesn't hate it either, especially if it means earning a decent wage that night, and the masquerade is the most lucrative time of the year. he weaves his magic through the air as easily as breathing, shimmering beneath the summer sky like jewels. he returns the knives to his belt safely and bows. the small crowd that has gathered to watch claps politely, and a few of them step forward to hand him money. he thanks them, then pulls off his mask to step back into his booth.

when he's not pulling light tricks and performing, business is unfortunately slow. asra's eyes linger on the crowd for another moment as he adjusts the sign attached to his booth, advertising tarot and palm readings. the weather is beautiful; the sky is clear, and the stars twinkle above the palace. when he's sure that no one will be approaching the booth, he steps behind the curtain into the small section he left for his bag, and his teapot. he begins to set it up for a drink; the flipping and the spinning and the magic shows have tired him out, but it takes him a long moment to get the water boiling. much to asra's ever-mounting frustration, fire is still a struggle for him to master. he'll have to pay the magician another visit once the masquerade is over for another lesson. when the tea is poured, mug clutched like a lifeline between his hands, he steps back into the throng of partygoers.

his eyelashes flutter when the hot liquid first hits the inside of his mouth, a touch hotter than he would prefer, and his eyes slide shut. the smoky taste of the tea glides over his tastebuds, and asra can almost see the field it was harvested in. he can feel the sun on his face even in the glow of the night sky, can smell the slowly steeping leaves. all of his senses are in tune to his magic, and he can feel it rush up and down his body, calming him. then he comes back to himself, and his eyes slowly open again, focusing, before catching sight of a person standing at the entrance to his booth, only a few feet away. they are... distractingly attractive, with dark hair curling into their eyes and a soft expression on their face.

"oh," he says, his voice casual. "hello."

the stranger raises a hand and waves. asra tilts his head, the corner of his lips quirking upwards. "hi." oh, cute. some first-time customers are the nervous sort, unsure how to act around magicians and anxious about their requests. but there's, hm... an aura around them, something that peaks asra's attention, swirling blues glittering around them and catching the moonlight. interesting. are they a magician as well?

he doesn't get a chance to ask. no sooner than they've said their hellos does the pounding sound of feet rush to their ears, accompanied with the airy sound of flutes. asra's eyes widen at the sudden onslaught of people rushing past his booth, the noise growing the closer it gets. then, a few things happen at once, in quick succession. the stranger barely has time to react before they're shoved forward by the crowd, tripping over their feet and crashing into asra's body, hot tea spilling all over him, soaking his attire and burning his chest. he hisses, the mug slipping from his grasp upon impact and crashing to the ground as the stranger's hands grip his clothes, fingers digging into his arms, struggling to stay upright.

"oh," he hears them say, distantly, still focused on the pain. "oh, god. i'm so..." palms settle on his chest as if to rub out the stain, but all it manages to do is aggravate the burn. he bites back a grunt and reaches up to still their hands. at his touch, they blush deeply.

"it's fine. one ruined outfit won't shut down the masquerade." he gives them a strained smile, and they disentangle themselves from each other. by now, partygoers have pushed back into the booth, parted in the middle to allow for the procession to pass, and the limited space forces them to stay close. asra closes his eyes and summons his magic, focusing it on the burn, and then the pain is gone. he sighs in relief, then opens his eyes to give the stranger a real smile. "see? no harm done."

the flutes, growing ever closer, drown out whatever the stranger says in response, and he leans in to talk in their ear, his hand at their elbow. "would you like to watch with me?" their hair brushes his cheek, and asra can feel them nod stiffly, face angled away from him.

he draws them through the crowd, not too far away from his booth, one eye still on it, and together they stand, waiting. already they can see the procession, flute players and carriages. asra just barely catches the eye of the woman inside through the window, striking red irises catching his, and she smiles at him, soft, but... distant? then they pass, pulled along by horses. gradually, the noise and chatter begin to lower, and the presence beside him relaxes.

"i think that's the countess," they say, sharp gaze still on the retreating carriage. "my aunt told me she's a princess from prakra." asra doesn't respond, instead reaching out to brush his fingers over the stranger's arm again to draw their attention.

"shall we?" he says, and gestures back to his booth. at the sight of it, the other tenses, a blush returning to their cheeks. they laugh, a nervous sound.

"i'm sorry about your mug," they says, rubbing the back of their neck. "i can replace it if you want."

"buy something from me and we'll call it even," asra replies, eyes lingering on the curve of their neck. it's, hmm... distracting.

"i didn't come here to buy anything," they reply, the words rushed. it draws asra's eyes up, focused, and the sudden attention has them stammering again. "my aunt, uh, wanted me to, um... to tell you, uh..." they turn to look at the shop building asra's selling behind, and fall silent. budding realization catches in his throat, and asra sucks in a breath.

"oh," he says, eyes wide. "that's yours, isn't it?"

"well... yeah. sort of. it's my aunt's. i'm just living here for now." now it all makes sense, why the stranger before him isn't dressed for the masquerade. he laughs, light and musical, and the other looks taken aback. "she said you're stealing the customers and she'll have to... call the palace guards if you don't leave."

asra laughs again and stares up at them, a smirk on his face, eyes lidded. it's a challenge. "i'm not afraid of palace guards. but, for you... how about this: let me read your cards, and i'll leave. you'll never see me again."


End file.
